Sacrifice
by perilousgard
Summary: A monk’s kesa is his symbol of the universe, but Miroku would forsake the universe if it meant keeping Sango by his side. Won 3rd place for Best Romance M/S at IYFG, 2nd quarter, 2006.


Title: Sacrifice  
Author: **queenofsocks**(Lily the Frog Princess)  
Character/Pairing: Miroku/Sango  
Rating: K  
Word Count: 1,869  
Summary: A monk's kesa is his symbol of the universe, but Miroku would forsake the universe if it meant keeping Sango by his side.

**Sacrifice**

Sango sat on a grassy hillock, smoothing her skirt repeatedly with nervous fingers as she waited for the sun to rise. This was either going to be her last sunrise or one of many more, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to enjoy it. However, despite her stiff resolve, her clenched jaw still trembled, her eyes quavered, and she couldn't stop fidgeting.

Today she and her companions would face Naraku, for the last time.

Drawing her knees up to her chest, Sango rested her chin on them. She had long since been prepared to face death, but the more she thought about it, the more she knew she would regret.

Her first and immediate thoughts were always of her brother. She pictured herself dying on the battlefield, at the mercy of Kohaku's manipulator, choking on her own blood. His face would be the last thing she saw, and she would die with anger and sorrow knowing she could do nothing to prevent his death. Again.

Sango clenched her teeth. Kohaku was a powerful subject, and would always be a powerful subject. Kohaku was Sango's weakness, the one flaw in the taijiya's steel wall which was so easily penetrated. She continuously penalized herself for becoming upset every time she saw the soulless eyes of her brother, and everyone in her traveling party knew. They pitied her, when they saw her go off alone to think about him and maybe cry. It was because she was human that she cried, they all said. But Sango knew better. She had never seen Miroku cry, and he had more to cry about than any of them.

Her eyes softened. If Naraku was defeated today, Miroku would be free to do whatever he pleased. The hellhole in his hand would be gone forever, and he would suddenly be faced with a much longer lifespan. And, as much as Sango tried to deny it, she hoped some part of that lifespan would involve her.

If he lived, and she lived, would he tell her? Would she tell him? Her feelings had been lurking just below the surface for so long now. She was fairly certain that he felt the same, but they had both been holding back should one of them die in this final battle.

Sango blushed, remembering one of her more recent fantasies, of a glorious victory against their foe, one that would end in jubilance rather than death. She would find him on the battlefield, weak and tired, but very alive. He would turn to face her, slowly, and smile. She'd smile back, and laugh before launching herself into his arms. He would swing her around twice before setting her on her feet, and then they would look into each other's eyes and…

What? What would happen then? Sango frowned. This particular fantasy usually ended in a static-filled, electrifying kiss, but, when faced with reality, he was more prone to grope her instead.

At least that hand was not staying in pratice on any bottom other than hers of late.

She loved him. Sango loved Miroku, with more of her heart than she had planned to give, and sometimes she whispered that to him, late at night when she thought he was asleep. She had been shocked senseless when one night, kneeling beside him, she had breathed those words and felt his hand cover hers, holding on tightly though he kept his eyes shut. If he had heard her, though, Sango never knew.

Because their bond was unspoken, she would not know until the end exactly what his feelings were. He was such a complete enigma to her that, when she was sure she had him figured out, he turned around and did something completely unexpected, so that she'd be left trying to solve the puzzle all over again. It frustrated the hell out of her, and she sensed that he knew that. That he enjoyed chasing circles around her was part of what still fueled her fire when he groped her.

That same fire was waning, though, in the wake of the sun spreading tongues of light over the land.

Sango tightened her grip around her knees, wishing she could disappear into the ground. Why did it have to come so soon? Why did it have to be today?

The weakness in her thoughts overwhelmed her quite suddenly, and she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears.

The soft jangle of metal rings behind her made her freeze, and lift her head slightly to glance over her shoulder at Miroku.

He came to stand beside her, staring out at the sunrise. "May I sit?" he asked softly, not looking at her.

She swallowed, then nodded. "Of course."

He settled into lotus position beside her, staff falling to the crook of his shoulder. He studied her face, taking in the redness of her lip as she chewed on it, the shimmer of her brown eyes as she fought the tears hiding in them. "You're frightened, Sango?"

"Of _course_ I'm frightened, you idiot," she gasped, tearing up little tufts of grass with her fingers. "We could all die today."

He smiled softly, closing his eyes. "We have all faced that possibility before. On a daily basis, in fact," he murmured.

"You know what I mean, Houshi-sama."

He turned to her, suddenly serious. "Sango, please, don't cry."

Too late, she realized the tears she had tried so desperately to hold back were coursing down her cheeks. She lifted her arm, scrubbing at her face, choking as sobs worked their way up her throat.

His heart ached for her. He reached out, wanting to wrap an arm around her. "Sango—"

"This is hard for me, Houshi-sama." She took a few deep breaths as her tears trailed off into little sniffles. "It's hard, knowing that I could wake up tomorrow and you or I, or Inuyasha, Kagome, and Shippou for that matter, could be dead. And I _am_ frightened, because I don't want to die now. Not when there are so many things I could do with you by my side."

His arm stretched forward, catching her hip and dragging her into him. She tucked her head beneath his chin, working on regulating her breathing as he ran his gloved hand lightly through her hair. "I want to marry you, Houshi-sama," she continued softly, speaking mostly into his neck. "I want to live with you in a village somewhere where we can settle down and have children. I want to watch them grow up until I'm old and withered myself, and when that happens, I want to die with you. Not in some battle against a demon, not knowing we failed when we could have succeeded."

His hand pressed against the back of her head, causing her lips to brush his throat. As she spoke again, the feeling sent shivers down his spine. "I'm sorry for being so weak, Houshi-sama. I am useless to this group."

He pulled her back so that he could look into her eyes, pausing to run his hands through the short tufts of hair on either side of her head. "Sango, you are not weak."

"I am, for being this way." She looked down, plucking at her skirt once more. "Everything blows up in my face. No matter how hard I try, I can't get him back."

He frowned, tightening his grip on her shoulders. "Sango, don't you dare give up. Your strength has been a pillar for me for a long time."

She blinked, looking up at him. "What?"

He sighed, running his hands through her hair again, tugging at the tie that held it back so that it could cascade freely over her shoulders. He had always loved her hair. It was sleek and soft and always smelled nice. "You have been my hope, Sango, for so long. You think there have not been times when I thought about giving up, too? The kazaana draws closer to swallowing me with each passing moment. There was never a night when I didn't worry if this would be the last time I closed my eyes, the last time I saw Sango's face illuminated by the light of the fire."

She was quiet, leaning into his touch.

"Whenever I despaired, all I needed to do was look to you for strength. You were always so determined to win every battle we entered. Your battle chi was always so strong it made my insides shrivel, but nothing made me smile more than the expression you got when you won another fight. It was that flame I saw which made me feel confidant we could win against Naraku."

She clasped his free hand in her own, the one with the kazaana. Her hands were shaking as they brushed the rosary.

"Listen to me, Sango." He tilted her chin, making her meet his eyes. "We will win, and we will get married, and we'll have children and live together until we're old. I will make sure of it."

"How?" she asked, her voice a mere breath on his face.

He paused, watching the flickering emotions in her honey-brown eyes. Then he gently released her hand and stood, tugging at the tie on his kesa.

Her eyebrows shot up, her mouth gaping in surprise. "H-Houshi-sama?" she gasped, as he unwound the knot and carefully slid the garment off his shoulders. Clothed only in his outer kimono, he folded the cloth reverently and placed it in Sango's hands. She glanced from it to him. "Why are you giving this to me?"

"When I was very young," Miroku started, "just before I left Mushin, I sewed this kesa with my own hands. It is the symbol of my religion, of enlightenment and ordination. Wearing it reminds me of my connection to the universe and to Buddha, and is probably the most important thing I own."

Her eyes were wide. "Then why? Why would you give this to me?"

He leaned over, cupping her blushing cheek in his palm, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone as if to catch invisible tears. "I will no longer be a monk when I marry you, Sango. I will throw my religion away for you, because if religion dictates that it is wrong to marry a woman you love, then I know nothing of Buddha."

She closed the bare distance between them, kissing him. He could taste the salt of fresh tears on her lips, but these were tears of joy rather than fear. When she pulled away, blushing, his hand caught her waist again and brought her back to lean against him. Smiling, Sango unfolded the worn cloth in her lap and draped it around the both of them, sealing them in the warmth it still contained from his body.

Their hard battle would come, and though its outcome was still unknown, Sango would remember his promise and fight courageously. And maybe, just maybe, they would see tomorrow.


End file.
